Chapter 1
His mouth traces soft kisses along my skin, and my body pushes up to meet him, aching for more…
“Emma, you’re not supposed to read ahead in book club.”
I slam the book shut at the sound of Ginny’s voice, already feeling the hot flush of embarrassment warming my face.
Ginny crosses her arms over her thin frame.
She’s wearing her usual: tailored slacks, a neatly pressed cardigan, and an air of authority, as if she’s running the whole assisted living facility instead of living in it.
“You might want to calm down, dear. You look like you got a sunburn.” Betsy parks her walker before lowering her ample bottom into the chair next to mine.
“Ladies, not that I don’t adore your company, but I still have—” I glance down at the faded break room table before feeling around in the pockets of my oversized scrubs. “—Um, has anyone seen my phone?”
“Honestly, Emma, you’re worse than Geraldine,” Ginny tuts, perching on the edge of her chair like a debutante at high tea. “And we all know she’s losing it. You really need a watch. Or some kind of zipline device to attach important items to your person.”
“Oh! That commercial with the heartthrob who looks like Denzel Washington? I think he was selling one of those thingamajigs. Of course, I have no need for it, but it was tempting. I’d buy anything that man’s selling. He’s a looker.” Betsy sighs wistfully.
“Is someone talking about Tom Cruise? He’s such a nice young man.” Helen shuffles across the faded grey carpet to join us.
Does no one respect the assisted living facility’s employees only break room sign?
Betsy shakes her head, and her bifocals bob with the movement.
“You know, I once dated a man who looked a lot like Denzel.” Ginny takes out her signature compact mirror, running a hand over an imaginary out-of-place strand of hair.
While they’ve been talking, I’ve successfully rummaged through the pockets of my scrub pants and sweater, and am now working on my jacket.
I don’t bother masking my eye roll before I shout a triumphant “Aha!” as I pull my phone out of my jacket pocket.
“Now, as I was saying, I still have…” I check the time on the screen.
“Well, I would’ve had three more minutes on my break, if I hadn’t been interrupted.
So I’m taking those three minutes now.” I open the book, trying to appear mildly annoyed, but the truth is, I’ve grown to love their slightly intrusive company more than I’d ever admit.
His mouth traces soft kisses along my skin, and my body pushes up to meet him, aching for more…
“Unacceptable.” Ginny snatches the book out of my hand, the red of her manicured nails flashing with the motion. “We said we’d read till chapter eight, and I can see from here that you’re on chapter ten.”
“Ginny, believe me, reading this is not for my own enjoyment. I’m trying to come up with the discussion questions for tomorrow. Do you know how hard it is to spark meaningful conversation with this type of book?” I drop my voice lower. “They’re about to do... the deed.”
Betsy snorts. “You mean sex? You can say sex. I’ve had enough of it being a taboo term my whole life. Now, I just want to be free to utter it whenever I darn well please.”
Much to my horror, Betsy begins warbling, “Sex. Sex. Sex!”
Then Ginny starts to chant, adding an accompanying melody to Betsy’s erotic song. Helen is trying to melt into her chair, clutching at her signature pearls. I grab the book out of Ginny’s hand and wave it around, trying to get both of their attention.
Which is when Mr. Rhodes walks through the door. The fluorescent lights radiate off of the top of his balding head, and I wish the floor would swallow me whole.
Betsy and Ginny finish one more chant for good measure before they both snap their mouths shut. I assume they’re trying to look contrite, but it’s a poor attempt considering their chagrined smiles don’t budge.
“Ladies, we’ve talked about this. You can’t be in the break room.
” Mr. Rhodes takes in the scene before him, his eyes lingering on the muscular male chest adorning the novel’s cover.
Helen makes a move as though she’s hoping to snatch it from me and stuff it under her floral cardigan or hide it in her impressively large crocheted handbag.
I set it down on the table, hoping she does.
Ginny gives an exaggerated eye roll before turning her attention to her nails.
Mr. Rhodes ambles over to the table. “What’re you reading? Looks like something on nutrition? Reminds me of myself back in my younger days.”
Betsy and Ginny try to cover their snickers with coughs. Helen’s fingers stretch closer to the offending book.
“It’s actually our book club’s pick for this month.” Ginny sounds proud, but Helen is trying to toss one of her embroidered doilies over the cover. Ginny gives her arm a gentle slap. “Don’t be ashamed, Helen. It was a great choice.”
“You’re interested in body building, Helen?”
“Something like that,” Betsy titters, while Helen fiddles with her long pale grey braid, looking like she also hopes the floor will swallow her whole. “It had, how did you put it?”
Betsy turns to Helen who manages to mumble, “Rave reviews.” Her Southern drawl is even more pronounced when she drops her voice.
Mr. Rhodes walks over to the coffee pot, pouring the stale brew all the way to the brim of his I Brake for Rare Coinsmug. “You all know that we are advocates of health and longevity here.”
I think Ginny might lose it as she presses her fingernails to her cinnamon red lips and shakes her head. Please, Mr. Rhodes, for all of our sakes, retreat now. Save yourself!
“Maybe when you’re finished, I’ll give it a try. I bet Mrs. Rhodes would appreciate me putting a little more effort into the old physique.” He gives his protruding stomach a pat for good measure.
And that’s when Betsy loses it, doubling over in a fit of laughter, while Helen stares in horror. Meanwhile, I’m desperately trying to erase the mental image of my boss reenacting the very explicit scenes from this book with his very conservative (and probably sex-starved) wife.
I shoot Ginny a stern look before turning back to Mr. Rhodes.
“I actually had a few questions about my schedule next week, if you have a minute? I’m starting my last semester, and there’s an orientation for clinical rotations that will conflict with my shifts.
I might need to cut down on my hours for a few weeks. ”
“Of course! Why don’t we step into my office?” As Mr. Rhodes turns to leave and walk down the hallway, he tosses one final grenade over his shoulder. “Oh, and be sure to send me the title of that book, ladies! The missus and I sure would appreciate it.”
Dear God. If that book ends up in their hands, I’ll need to find a new job.
“Emma! Don’t forget you’re doing our hair in five minutes!” Ginny’s little silver mirror is back in her hand, and she doesn’t bother looking up as her fingers smooth her bangs.
“How could I ever forget your hair, Ginny?” I snatch the book off the table before racing to catch up to Mr. Rhodes.
“Emma, I’m concerned about the schedule you’re keeping.” He powerwalks down the hall, and I lengthen my stride, attempting to keep pace. “Burnout is so high in this industry, and as the director it’s my job to mitigate it as much as possible with employees.”
“I’m not burning out. It’s only two jobs. Well, three if you count the evenings volunteering in the salon.” Which I can’t be late for. I fight the urge to check the time on my phone.
Mr. Rhodes lets out a weary sigh, opening the door to his tiny office and gesturing for me to follow.
“I know we’re short-staffed, but it’s not your responsibility to keep everything running.
That’s my job. It’s the nature of the beast that we call assisted living.
” He shakes his head before offering a tired smile.
“That said, I really appreciate you stepping up as our temporary activities director on top of your CNA work.”
“Honestly, working as a certified nursing assistant, doing all the hands-on care is better preparing me than any of my nursing courses so far. Really, you’re doing me the favor.”
Probably knowing he won’t change my mind, Mr. Rhodes sends me a gentle smile. “I’ve heard nothing but great things about that book club you started. You have Ginny, Betsy, and Helen in it, correct? How’s it going?”
I debate giving an honest answer. Yes, Southern Belle Helen, who blushes at every spicy line; Ginny, the ex-fashion-store owner and resident fashionista, critiquing every outfit; and sweet Betsy, who keeps trying to order matching ‘Smut Sister’ hoodies online with her never-ending coupon collection.
I clutch the novel tighter to my chest and summon a smile so bright and fake it would stun an infomercial audience.
“Yep. Just the four of us for now. It’s been educational. ”
Focus, Emma. Get his attention off of this atrocious, completely unrealistic novel. “About my schedule…”
“Of course. Send me an email with the dates you need rearranged, and I’ll make it happen.” Mr. Rhodes settles into his saggy office chair. “Now about book club—”
I’d rather eat my own shoe than rehash book club, but my brain short-circuits when searching for an escape route. Desperate, I flick my gaze to the clock. “Oh no, would you look at that? I’m late for, uh, salon night! Gotta go save some perms from disaster.”
His expression goes flat. “Emma.”
I slap on my best innocent look. “Yes?”
He falls back into his office chair and the cracked leather moans under his weight. “Again, we appreciate you, but you don’t have to wear so many hats around here.”
I flash him a cheeky grin as I edge toward the door, reaching for the doorknob. “I know. But I like being busy.” Busy means no time for a personal life.
His voice stops me right before I slip out. “Just don’t burn yourself out.”